


Rhyme Scheme

by Zai42



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Banter, Bathing/Washing, Coming Untouched, Kink Discovery, Kissing, M/M, Rimming, You're Welcome, no actual poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24855487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Oscar could have written poetry about Zolf Smith's ass.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 12
Kudos: 72





	Rhyme Scheme

Oscar could have written poetry about Zolf Smith’s ass. He hadn’t - yet - but the thought crossed his mind for not the first time as he watched Zolf out on the training ground.

Zolf was _solid,_ all muscle beneath a healthy layer of fat, strong and unmovable, though Oscar had had the distinct pleasure of trying to move him on more than one occasion. Zolf had long since discarded his shirt, and Oscar let his eyes rove down the glistening length of his back, watching the flex of the muscles there, before settling on Zolf’s (perfect, sculpted, tragically still clothed) ass. He didn’t bother to pretend he wasn’t staring; Zolf was too engrossed with his training to notice.

By the time Zolf looked up, Oscar had composed two and a half stanzas and was trying to come up with a decent rhyme for “tongue.”

“What’re you grinning about?” Zolf asked, wiping sweat from the back of his neck as he wandered over.

“Nothing,” Oscar said innocently, and batted his eyelashes for good measure. Zolf’s expression was instantly wary. “Are you headed to shower?”

“Yes,” Zolf said, with the tone of a man who was gradually realizing the shape of the conversation he was in.

“Might I join you?”

Zolf, unsurprised, just rolled his eyes and beckoned for Oscar to follow him. Which Oscar, of course, was quite glad to do.

“Ask whatever you’re gonna ask,” Zolf said as the bathroom door clicked shut behind them.

Oscar, distracted by Zolf undoing the fastenings of his trousers, shook himself. “Pardon?” He was then immediately distracted again as Zolf shoved his pants down over his hips.

Zolf seemed to sense this and snapped his fingers beneath Oscar’s nose. “Focus for five seconds, you horny bastard,” he said. He leaned over the bathtub to turn on the faucet. Oscar sent up a brief prayer of thanks to whichever gods might be listening, then reached out and ran a fingertip down the curve of Zolf’s spine, watched his eyes slip closed as he shuddered briefly. “Oscar,” he said, with less heat in his voice, now. He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you getting undressed, or do you wanna shower in your clothes?”

“Forgive me,” Oscar said, and began unfastening the buttons of his shirt. “I was enjoying the show.” Zolf rolled his eyes, but he was blushing as he stepped into the shower.

When Oscar joined him, Zolf pulled him down for a kiss, searing and wet beneath the steamy spray. “You gonna tell me what you’ve been all gaga about this morning?” Zolf murmured against his lips.

Oscar smiled, slid his palms down Zolf’s back, and groped at the firm muscle of his rear. “There’s something I was wondering,” he said, before turning the soft pressure of their mouths against each other into a kiss once again. “You can say no,” he added after a moment, slightly more breathless than he had been.

“Hmm,” Zolf said. “Gotta tell me what it is first.” He immediately made this difficult by pressing his tongue into Oscar’s mouth, not that Oscar was complaining.

“It’s just,” Oscar said, eventually, “you really have the most perfect ass I’ve ever laid eyes on, darling.” He squeezed to punctuate his point; Zolf made a faint noise into his mouth and Oscar swallowed it eagerly.

“Okay,” Zolf managed, breathing hard and holding Oscar back by the hair in order to get his sentence out. “So you’ve been staring at my bum all day, what d’you want to do about it? Fuck me? Spanking? You’re the creative one.”

“Can I eat you out?” Oscar asked in a single breath, and took advantage of Zolf’s surprise to surge forward, pin him to the shower wall, and kiss him again.

“Nnngmmmmn,” said Zolf, eloquently.

Oscar pulled back a fraction of an inch. “Hm?”

“I said, I’ve never...done that. Before.”

Oscar made a sound of surprised, dreamy hunger, a complicated tangle of emotions that tumbled out of his throat in a strangled whine. “Please,” he croaked. “I’m _very_ good at it.”

“You say that about everything,” Zolf said, but tipped his head back to let Oscar kiss down the column of his throat. “If - ah - if you really want.”

“I do,” Oscar breathed. He slid his palms along Zolf’s ass, then gently spread him open to run a single fingertip over his hole, skin gliding easily against skin. Zolf shivered beneath his touch. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me before we’ve done anything,” Zolf grumbled. He pushed himself off the wall, forced Oscar to step back to give him some space as he reached for the soap. “How do you know you’ll even like doing it with me?”

Oscar watched Zolf lathered the soap between his palms and only realized Zolf had asked him a question when he stopped and stared expectantly at him. He played back the last ten seconds in his mind. “Call it a hunch,” he said, and waved a hand. “Don’t stop on my account.” Zolf rolled his eyes.

Watching Zolf bathe shouldn’t have been as achingly erotic as Oscar found it. His movements were utilitarian and rough more than teasing or seductive, but still, Oscar watched hungrily, eyes locked on a soap bubble slowly gliding down Zolf’s pectoral. Indulgent, Oscar reached out a hand and popped it, sliding his fingers through the suds, thumbing over a nipple. Zolf closed a hand around Oscar’s, shivering. “You’re distracting,” he muttered.

Oscar went to his knees and eased the soap from Zolf’s hand. “Let me, then, if you’re so easily distracted.” Zolf snorted, indignant, but leaned forward to press a kiss to Oscar’s damp curls and hummed pleasantly when Oscar slid his hands over him.

Oscar could have very happily spent the rest of his days doing this, scrubbing softly at Zolf’s sunbaked skin, soap suds making each movement slick and easy. He cupped Zolf’s pectorals, squeezing gently, sliding his fingers between the muscle to swipe away layers of sweat. “If you wanted an excuse to grope me,” Zolf mumbled into Oscar’s hair, “you could’ve just asked.”

“You’d have said no,” Oscar replied tenderly. His hands dipped over Zolf’s hips, around his thick thighs, fingertips digging in slightly, massaging the muscle there before slipping higher, rubbing the seam of Zolf’s body. Zolf’s heavy prick twitched with vague interest, and Oscar curled a soapy hand around it to give it one good pull, long and slow.

Zolf sighed, shifting forward as Oscar slicked his fingers against his hole, rubbing in slippery circles before just dipping inside. Oscar’s free hand tangled in Zolf’s beard and tugged him down for a kiss, lazy and unhurried. “Gonna use up all the hot water,” Zolf murmured into Oscar’s mouth.

“Tragic,” Oscar replied. He dragged his hand from Zolf’s beard to the back of his neck then up along his scalp, scratching lightly, wet strands clinging to his fingertips. “Let me wash your hair and we can relocate?”

“Sap,” Zolf said in a tone of voice that failed to be particularly grumpy. He nuzzled Oscar’s cheek. “Fine.”

Sometime later, long after the hot water had been well and used up, Zolf sat on the edge of Oscar’s bed, looking uncertain and damp. “So,” he said gruffly, “how do you...”

Oscar stepped between his legs, cradled his jaw in both hands, and kissed him. “However’s comfortable,” he said. He went to his knees, running his fingers down Zolf’s thighs, touching the mechanisms oh his prosthetics with something like reverence.

“You can put your legs on my shoulders if you want.”

Zolf blushed furiously, shifting beneath Oscar’s gaze. “All right,” he muttered, unable to meet Oscar’s eyes. He didn’t move. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Oscar let out a soft huff of laughter, then scooped his arms beneath Zolf’s legs, flung them over his shoulders, and jerked Zolf closer to the edge of the bed, one hand coming up to press flat against his chest. “Okay?” he asked, leaning in to kiss the curve of Zolf’s belly, inhaling the scent of soap and warm skin.

“Okay,” Zolf said, strangled and higher-pitched than usual.

“Lie back,” Oscar murmured, kissing down Zolf’s stomach, the inside of his thigh, the still-soft length of his cock. “I’ve got you.”

“Sure,” Zolf said, sounding entirely unsure. He lowered himself onto his elbows, propped up just enough to keep a wary eye on the man between his legs. “Okay. Go...go ahead.”

Oscar grinned, pressed one last chaste kiss to the tender skin of Zolf’s thigh, and gently held Zolf open. He licked, long and slow and wet, dragging the flat of his tongue over Zolf’s hole, and above him Zolf let out a confused string of disjointed syllables and collapsed onto his back. Oscar smirked, though the effect was fairly lost on Zolf.

Thus encouraged, Oscar buried his face between Zolf’s cheeks, pressing a wet, sucking kiss to his hole, his tongue flicking over him in tight circles. Above him, Zolf was moaning gutteral curses, hands twisting in the bedsheets. Oscar hummed, pleased, making his tongue soft and flat once more, dragging it over Zolf’s hole. Zolf’s cock was full and hard now, already dripping.

Oscar pulled away just enough to blow cool air over Zolf’s spit-slick skin, watching him twitch and clench. “If you spread yourself open for me,” he said, “I can use my fingers.” Zolf whimpered, high and broken, but reached down and spread himself open nonetheless, splotches of color high on his cheeks. “Perfect,” Oscar murmured, already pressed up against Zolf again, lips and tongue working over soft skin. He slid two fingers against Zolf’s hole, tugging gently at it, licking between them with a pointed tongue, tracing the tight rim of muscle.

Zolf’s legs tightened around Oscar’s ears, metal digging hard into his back as he levered himself up off the mattress, gasping and squirming. His cries were music to Oscar’s ears - Zolf was as taciturn in bed as he was in most other things, so to have him writhing and moaning and unhinged beneath Oscar’s hands was intoxicating. Oscar pulled back, just barely, just to adjust his position, and Zolf let out a hysterical noise. “Please,” he gasped.

Oscar laughed and kissed the inside of his knee. “Not going anywhere,” he murmured, and nuzzled back between Zolf’s cheeks.

The sunlight in the room shifted; Oscar remained where he was, mouth working against Zolf. He was faintly aware of his jaw aching, but couldn’t bring himself to care, too engrossed in his task, in the way Zolf’s hips rolled against his mouth, the way his legs shook, the way his cries had melted into weak, desperate moans. The way his cock eventually twitched and spilled over his stomach without Oscar so much as brushing his fingers along it.

Oscar pulled back, licking his lips, face shiny-wet. “Good?” he asked, resting his cheek against Zolf’s trembling thigh.

“Hnnggh,” Zolf managed. He swallowed thickly and tried again. “Yeah,” he said, voice roughened down to nearly nothing. “Yeah, that was.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah.” Oscar hummed, eyes closing, smiling serenely, basking in the satisfaction of a job well done. “Can I,” Zolf said, running a hand through Oscar’s hair, scratching lightly behind his ear. “Can I do anything for you?”

“That isn’t necessary,” Oscar said. He paused, frowning for a moment. “Well,” he said, “unless you can think of something that rhymes with tongue.”


End file.
